


Long long ago, in a Hobbit-hole far far away ...

by EemeetMeeker



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Lots of subtle Tolkien jokes but not so many subtle Star Wars jokes, M/M, don't ask me why Galactic Basic and Westron are the same they just are, maximum height difference, sad ending but then happy epilogue, the ring ruins everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 22:40:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 12,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16481105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EemeetMeeker/pseuds/EemeetMeeker
Summary: The Millennium Falcon lands for repairs in the Shire and an unlikely interplanetary romance transpires.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> (A few years ago, a friend posted something on Facebook that I thought sounded like a suggestion of Bilbo Baggins/Chewbacca slash fic. I went to find some to link to in order to emphasize my joke, and I couldn't find any. But once the idea got started in my head, I had to run with it. The tale grew in the telling, as they say, and I ended up being pretty into it. So here it is.)

In the years following his return from his great adventure, Bilbo Baggins was frequently seen walking in the woods around Hobbiton. It was something of a queer habit, according to many respectable hobbits, though all in all not nearly so queer as some of the other things old Bilbo had gotten mixed up in. He told curious inquirers that he did it to clear his head when he got too mixed-up writing his memoirs, which was true. He did not tell them that he hoped each time he went out to see some Elves, which was also true. And he certainly did not tell them that from time to time he did see some Elves, and sat the evening on a log smoking his pipe and listening to their singing, just past the reach of their fire-light, though that was true as well.

On a certain late summer night Bilbo went for one of his customary walks, after having had quite an eventful day already. He had learned from old Gaffer Gamgee that rumors were being spread that on his adventure he had fathered a child with a Dwarf woman. The Gaffer didn't believe it, of course, but he wanted to let Bilbo know what was being said about him all the same. The rumors had their source, naturally, in the Sackville-Bagginses, who were alleging that support of this supposed half-Dwarf offspring was the reason that Bilbo was not sharing his fortune more generously – which is to say, with them. Bilbo was upset that the rumor was so clearly false while still hitting so close to home and reminding him of the losses he had endured on his adventure. The whole thing had left him quite put out all day, and so a good walk in the woods, with a hope of seeing some Elves, was in order.

As Bilbo made his way down familiar paths through the woods, he caught sight of a light up ahead of him. His heart jumped. It was coming from the direction of a large clearing he knew well, where Gildor often brought his folk to dance in the starlight. His footsteps lightened as he continued onward, buoyed by the happy coincidence of soothing his frayed nerves with elf-song.

What Bilbo found in the clearing, however, was no Elf party at all. The light came from lamps arranged around the strangest construction he had ever seen in his travels. It was as large as a house, and roughly round in shape, made of many pieces of a light-colored metal. It stood above the clearing floor on several large stilts, which dug into the moss. And below it stood two persons unlike any Bilbo had ever seen.

One was clearly a Man, that is, one of the Big People. He stood just over six feet high, clad in a white shirt, dark vest, and boots. He was yelling in frustration, banging on the exterior of the strange construction to emphasize his points. His companion was even more curious. He was even taller, the height of three Hobbits on each others' shoulders, and covered entirely in brown hair. Bilbo wondered if he was a bear-man, like Beorn. 

All thoughts of the Sackville-Bagginses and their rumors fled Bilbo's thoughts. He crept closer, to the edge of the light, listening to the man in the vest and trying to decipher what had upset him so. Now as you know, Hobbits are known for their soft steps and quiet habits, so if Bilbo had been really thinking, he could have approached the two strangers quite closely before either of them had any idea what was happening. But Bilbo was not thinking on this night, because he was distracted by wonder, and so he stepped loudly on a fallen branch.

At the sound, the man in the vest whipped around. He grabbed at his belt, pulling out an odd-shaped object and pointing it at Bilbo. The bear-man also grabbed his weapon, though this one Bilbo recognized as a crossbow. The Hobbit froze.

“Who's there! Come on, show yourself!” said the man. The bear-man let out a warbling growl of concurrence.

“Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” stammered Bilbo.

“Come out where I can see you,” said the man. Bilbo gingerly stepped forward into the light.

The man looked him up and down, still holding out his strange weapon. “Bilbo Baggins,” he repeated. “And what are you?”

“A Hobbit, sir. A Baggins of Bag End. And if I may ask, who might I have the pleasure of speaking to?”

The man replied, “I don't know what pleasure there is in it, but my name is Han Solo. And this is my co-pilot, Chewbacca.” Chewbacca let out another growl. “No, Chewie, I don't think he's dangerous. He's just a little guy, and unarmed.” The two re-holstered their weapons.

“I am honored to make your acquaintance,” said Bilbo, erring on the side of formality until he understood the strangers better. “May I ask what brings you to the Shire? Only because we rarely see Big People here, much less Beornings from Wilderland.”

“Beo-what? Oh, you mean Chewie. Nah, he's a Wookiee from Kashyyk. So this planet is called the Shire?”

“Planet?”

“This world, the thing we're on.”

“Oh no, the Shire is just a small place in the wide world. May I ask where you come from? I have traveled far for a Hobbit if I may say so myself, all the way to Erebor and back, but I have not heard of Kashyyk.”

“It's another planet. This here” he thumped the side of the strange construction “is the Millennium Falcon. It's my ship.” Apparently spotting Bilbo's confusion, he continued, “A space ship. We travel through the stars in it – or we did until this piece of junk broke down.”

“Oh!” Bilbo brightened up considerably. “A ship that travels through the stars, my gracious. Then you must know Eärendil.”

“Who?”

“Eärendil, who travels through the stars in his ship Wingelot, bearing a Silmaril – hold on, I have been working on a bit of poetry about him. Let me see:  
There was a merry messenger,  
a passenger, a mariner:  
he built a boat and gilded her,  
and silver oars he fashioned her;  
her sails he wove of gossamer  
and blossom of the cherry-tree  
and lightly as a feather in  
the weather went she merrily.

He floated from a haven fair  
of maidenhair and ladyfern;  
the waterfalls he proudly rode  
where loudly flowed the Merryburn,  
and dancing on the foam he went  
on roving bent from Hitherland  
through Evermorning journeying,  
while murmuring the river ran  
to valleys in the Gloaming-fields;  
then slowly he on pillow cool  
let fall his head, and fast alseep  
he passed the Weeping-willow Pools...”

Bilbo trailed off at the end of the verse, as Han Solo was clearly losing interest. But he saw that Chewie was listening in rapt attention, his glistening eyes fixed on Bilbo. He gave a soft growl of appreciation.

Han Solo sighed. “That's very nice poetry, but I promise you I have never met this Eärendil fellow. Now, it's been nice meeting you, but I am way too tired right now for socializing.” He turned to the ladder that led down from the underside of the strange ship. “Come on, Chewie,” he said, giving his companion an affectionate slap on the arm.

“Oh, yes, it was quite nice to meet you as well, Mr. Han Solo, and Mr. Chewbacca. I don't know how long you plan to stay, but you are always welcome at Bag End, on Bagshot Row in Hobbiton. Tea is at eleven.”

Chewbacca gave an approving growl and a slight bow, then followed Han Solo up the ladder.

Inviting these strangers to tea! What on earth had he been thinking? Bilbo berated himself almost as soon as Chewie's hairy feet disappeared, and the external lights of the ship shut off. He remained where he was for a minute longer, until his eyes had re-adjusted to the new darkness, then began to make his way back home. He found he had lost all appetite for wandering in the woods tonight.


	2. 2

Bilbo did not return to the woods for the next week. Something about the pair of strangers had shaken him in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. He told himself that he needed to focus more on writing up his memoirs, and he certainly spent a good deal of his time at his writing-desk, quill in hand. But productivity eluded him, and he found himself writing and then scratching out the same lines again and again, as his attention would wander before he finished the sentence, and he would need to go back to the beginning and start over to find his way. 

He was in just such a state at half past ten on a Thursday morning when he heard a loud thumping at his door. He nearly dropped his quill, and had to scramble not to spill ink over his current page (not that he hadn't already spoiled it quite well with his indecisive writing. If paper weren't so expensive lately, he would simply toss it out and begin afresh). Bilbo hustled to the door, muttering under his breath that if it were one of his cousins, then he would not just put on his ring to disappear, but also dump a flowerpot over their heads as they left. 

Bilbo peeked out through a side window and saw, much to his surprise, Gandalf! The wizard stood expectantly on his doorstep, a pair of letters in one hand, his staff in the other. Bilbo composed himself before opening the door. “Yes, what is it?”

From Gandalf's expression, he had been sharper than he meant in his greeting. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Baggins, is that any way to greet an old friend?”

“No, of course not. I'm dreadfully sorry, but I fear I wasn't expecting you. And you must understand that unexpected visits by wizards have a track record of causing no small amount of disruption in my life.”

Gandalf smiled. “Not to worry, Mr. Baggins. I have no adventures to recruit for. Today I am playing the role of postman. I was told to personally make sure you received this one letter, as it has come from very far away.”

Bilbo took the letters from the wizard, with his best smile. “Of course, Now let me see ...” The top letter was from Paladin Took, likely another long and rambling missive that would be pleasant to read while enjoying his pipe that afternoon. The other, though, was addressed in Dwarven runes. It took him a moment to recall how to read them, as he had not seen anything written in runes in some time.

To: Mr. Bilbo Baggins, Bag End, Hobbiton, The Shire  
From: Bofur Nidhisson, Manakh-vin, Ardûnost, Blue Mountains

Bilbo's eyebrows shot up. Bofur! He hadn't heard from Bofur in years, not since he passed through on his way back to the Blue Mountains, having discovered that life in Erebor disagreed with him. He began to tear the letter open, then realized that Gandalf was still standing on his doorstep. “Yes, thank you, did you need my, er, signature or anything?”

“No, but I could use a cup of tea, and perhaps a smoke.”

Bilbo caught the wizard's self-invitation, and waved him into the hobbit-hole. Gandalf ducked in, and as the door closed behind them, he said “Go on and read that letter. I know where the tea is kept, if I may.”

“Yes, of course,” mumbled Bilbo, looking at the letter. The Dwarf-paper of the envelope was thicker than what was common in the Shire, but nicely textured. He pulled out the letter and unfolded it. In a heavy hand, it read:

My dear Mr. Bilbo Baggins,

I apologize for not writing more often. I have been happy living here in Ardûnost these last few years. I have three children now. They are old enough that I can travel again and I have some business that brings me to the Shire. I hope that I might come by Bag End for tea and to visit an old friend, on September the 14th.

At your service,

Bofur Nidhisson

PS: I hope that the advance warning this time is not amiss.

Bilbo smiled. A visit from an old friend would be quite welcome, and a good distraction from his current worries. Perhaps Bofur could read his memoirs so far, and give him some ideas of how to attack the next part. He had gotten to the part where they were captured by the wood-elves, and to be honest his troubles were probably due to his confused memory of the whole episode. 

Gandalf returned from the kitchen and set down a pair of tea cups. He seated himself across from Bilbo and folded his hands. “Now, the reason I invited myself in here was not simply to have something to drink.”

Bilbo's heart sank. “No, of course not.”

“Don't worry, I was being quite honest when I said I was not recruiting for more adventures. In fact, my purpose here is to keep you out of any adventures.”

Bilbo nodded, not entirely reassured.

“I have begun a line of research, at the perhaps unwitting instigation of my friend Saruman the White. He is a very powerful wizard, and the head of my order. I will not bother you with the details, as they are currently the concern only of the Wise, and it will take many years for any of this to come to fruition, but it is tied up in its way with the great journey that you went on. I will say only this: There are others engaged in similar research, and they may not have as trustworthy a mind as do Saruman and myself and the others on our council. The Shire is a quiet place, out of the way, and Hobbits are a good and gentle folk – yes, even your cousins, by the standards of the wider world.”

“What does this have to do with me, then? I am quite happy to stay in the Shire for the rest of my Hobbit life, thank you very much,” said Bilbo.

Gandalf smiled. “Yes, quite. With my apologies for the cryptic tone, I would strongly advise you stick to Hobbit affairs. Do not draw more attention to yourself than is necessary, and do not – do not – let the name “Baggins” become known to any of the Big People.”


	3. 3

Gandalf had no more he wished to say about his warning to Bilbo, and Bilbo was quite content to assure him that he would have no truck with anyone over four feet tall. They passed a pleasant tea reminiscing on their old adventure, and then the wizard said he must be off on other business.

Bilbo had just closed the door behind him when there was another loud knock. He jumped at the sound and threw the door back open, expecting to find that Gandalf had forgotten one more letter.

Instead, his front step was occupied by two taller figures – Han Solo and Chewbacca.

“I know, we're a bit early,” said Han. “But in our defense, we don't have a map, and half of your little people just ran the other way when we asked for directions, so we had no idea how long it would take to get here.”

“Oh! Please, come in, come in!” Bilbo waved his visitors in. Gandalf had just warned him about becoming known to the Big People, but he had already met Han Solo and Chewbacca, and in any case they were hardly the usual sort of Big People. He wondered if the Gaffer or anyone else had seen them approach. If his neighbors thought he was eccentric already, a visit from this strangely dressed pair of Big People would certainly not change their minds.

Han bent down to enter, stooping like Gandalf. Chewbacca was even taller, having to crouch down nearly to all fours to enter the hobbit-hole. 

“This way, you can have a seat here – I'm dreadfully sorry that all of my furniture is Hobbit-sized, but hopefully you can make do for now. Now let me put some more water on for tea and see if we have some cakes …”

Bilbo kept up a soft nervous patter of apology and narration as he rushed around his kitchen trying to put together a reasonable tea service for his visitors. Han had crammed himself into a chair at the table, while Chewie had given up on furniture and made himself comfortable on the floor.

Han seemed a bit exasperated. “Look, it's fine, we don't need any … all right, sure.” Chewie followed with a growl, which had an apologetic tone.

No, not just a growl, Bilbo suddenly realized. Since his travels he had put more effort into studying Sindarin and Quenya, and Balin had even taught him a little Khuzdul, the secret language of the Dwarves. And so he recognized in Chewie's vocalizations the distinctive rhythm of language. He couldn't tell what the Wookiee was saying, of course, but he was clearly talking, not just growling. 

After some time, Bilbo returned to the dining room with a pot of tea and a plate of sweet cakes. He placed them on the table and Han Solo, despite his earlier protestations, grabbed a cake and stuffed it in his mouth. Chewie took one and sniffed it, then nibbled politely.

“OK, so we didn't just stop by to be friendly,” said Han.

“Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Biblo pulled up a chair and poured himself a cup of tea.

Han dug around in his pocket, and tossed a metal object onto the table. Bilbo leaned over and peered at it. It was roughly round and larger than his hand, but with numerous holes and flanges to it.

“Go ahead and pick it up if you want. It's not dangerous unless you stick it in your eye.”

Bilbo cautiously took the object into his hand. He could see now that it was made of metal, but discolored and warped, as if by a great fire.

“That,” explained Han Solo, “is a backdraft regulator gasket. Without it, the Millennium Falcon won't fly. There are over ten thousand different parts to that ship, and I've rigged up a replacement for every single one of them in the time I've had her. Except for that. It's busted, and I don't have the tools to fix it here. So unless I can get it replaced, Chewie and me are stuck here.”

“Raghh aurarr inghaa,” agreed Chewie.

“Oh dear. Well, I'm no blacksmith myself ...”

“No, I didn't figure you were. But maybe you know someone who can. They have to be able to look at that, figure out what it looked like when it wasn't broken, and make one exactly like it.”

“Hmmm.” Bilbo turned the backdraft regulator gasket over in his hands. “Well, most of the blacksmithing around here is done by Tim Proudfoot, but to be quite honest I'm not sure he could do something of such precision. You would really need an Elven smith.”

“Urrajj graahhk,” said Chewie sadly.

“Or,” Bilbo added suddenly, “a Dwarf! Yes, I'm sure there are Dwarven smiths in the Blue Mountains who could repair your gasket.”

“The Blue Mountains?” said Han. “Where are these Blue Mountains? How far off?”

“Three hundred miles, at least,” replied Bilbo. He gestured toward the large map of the Shire on his wall, though that map – beautifully illustrated as it was – stretched only as far as the Tower Hills.

Han sighed, and looked over at Chewie. “Aughh ruara gnauh,” replied the Wookiee.

“But I wouldn't expect you to go all that way yourselves,” said Bilbo. “Why, I just received word today that a Dwarf of my acquaintance, one Bofur of Ardûnost, is coming to visist in just a week. I would be happy to make an introduction, and perhaps he and his people could repair your gasket.”

“A week,” grumbled Han. “At this rate, Jabba's goons will track us here before we can get aloft again.” He grabbed another cake and took a sizeable bite.

Chewie turned to Bilbo and said “Nghaa rarragha,” placing one hairy hand on Bilbo's arm. A thrill went through him. The words were clearly meant to comfort him in the face of Han Solo's display of frayed nerves. The Wookiee's hand was warm and silky soft. It was all he could do not to grab it tightly between his own. Instead he settled for a pat on the arm in return.

“Come on, Chewie, let's get out of here,” said Han. “I'm getting a crick in my back from being crouched in here. No offense, of course, Mr. Baggins. Your hole is very nice, it's just not, you know, built for people our size.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Well, thank you for coming by.” Bilbo made a conscious effort to smile equally at both of his guests.

“Your friend the Dwarf, you said he's coming in a week?”

“September the 14th,” said Bilbo. 

“And today is?”

“September the 8th.”

“Okay. We'll be back on the 14th. Right, Chewie?”

“Anh raaghaa.”


	4. 4

Despite all the bustle and bother of the visit from Han Solo and Chewbacca, Bilbo found that afterwards he was much more able to concentrate on his work. The words flowed easily, and he finished several pages in neat handwriting without so much as a misplaced period. So he was quite perturbed when, just as evening was coming on, he got another loud knock on the door. Grimacing, he set down his quill and made his way quietly to the door. Peeking out through the curtain, he saw a fat Hobbit with a head of thick gray hair and a pair of spectacles much too large for him perched on the end of a nose rather too small for him.

“Telly Burrowes, to what do I owe the pleasure?” said Bilbo, pulling the door open. “It has been quite some time since we've seen you up the Hill.”

“Yes, it has, and I only wish it had been longer,” said Telly, folding his arms decisively over his chest. “But I am told you played host to a couple of very queer visitors earlier today.”

Bilbo realized his moment of shock at the accusation ruined any chance of pretending ignorance, so he went the other way. “May a Hobbit not entertain whomever he pleases in his own hobbit-hole? I scarcely imagine our conversation was so loud as to reach all the way down to the Water.”

“I don't know anything about your conversation,” frowned Telly. “But I do know that one of the Big People, and some kind of hairy thing” – he spat the word onto the doorstep – “walked straight through my hops field earlier today. And various people in town confirmed that they were asking after a Mr. Baggins, and came straight away to Bag End once they had got directions. Now, I know you are an odd one, consorting with wizards and Dwarves and the like, and I try to keep my nose as clear of all of that business as I can. But I am just warning you, if I ever see those two again, if they so much as look at my field, they will both get knocked upside the head with an empty pint glass – and you in the bargain as well, Mr. Baggins.” Telly jabbed a finger at Bilbo, who let off a small squeak. “Myself and my cousins will all be happy to remind you to leave other Hobbits' property alone.”

Telly made as if to leave, then rounded on Bilbo with an obviously rehearsed coda. “And one more thing. I'd advise your gardener down there, Mr. Gamgee, to practice more if he intends to lie to inquirers as to your whereabouts. I could see through his act with one eye closed.” Then he left for real, harumphing down the path without waiting for a reply.

Bilbo closed the door slowly. He had trouble imagining Chewie ruining anyone's hops field, though he wouldn't put it past Han Solo. He also wouldn't put it past Tellured Burrowes to make the whole thing up just for an excuse to get on Bilbo's case. Telly had bought a very nice armchair for a very nice price at the estate sale when Bilbo was off on his adventure, and when the previous owner returned, Telly's wife had pressured him to return the chair – something he had never forgiven Bilbo for.


	5. 5

Han Solo and Chewbacca arrived early on the morning of the 14th, and Bilbo hurried them inside. This time he was well prepared, with cheese and scones and a nice lingonberry jelly that he had bought from away up in the North Farthing and kept for a special occasion. Chewie gave it an aproving “Ngaarj,” which made Bilbo's heart skip a beat. 

Once Han had finished grousing about the size of the hobbit-hole's ceiling, Bilbo asked the two of them nervously “You didn't have any sort of trouble on the way over today, did you?”

“Trouble? No. Once we had the coordinates from our visit last week, we could just follow them directly here.” Han Solo gestured to Chewie, who took out a small box from his pocket. Glowing atop it was a little map, made of tongues of green and blue flame, showing the area round about Hobbiton.

“My gracious!” whispered Bilbo. This was more intricate even than the smoke figures and fireworks that Gandalf could make. But Chewie flicked a finger and the image disappeared, and he replaced the box in his pocket like nothing had happened.

“Aanh hagjjar,” Chewie said to Han Solo.

“Well, yes,” Han replied. Then, seeing Bilbo's curiosity, he said “Don't mind this big hairy lump.”

“Oh, I don't mind at all,” Bilbo replied. And to Chewbacca, he said, “I do beg your pardon, Mr. Chewbacca. I can't say I have ever encountered the Wookiee language before, so I must rely on your friend Captain Solo to translate.”

Chewie cocked his head, with a bit of a smile. Then he picked up the teacup that was sitting before him, held it up to Bilbo's face, and said “aghn!”

“Oh! Do you need some more--”

Han Solo cut him off with a loud sigh. “He's teaching you Shyriiwook, his language. 'Aghn' means 'cup.'” Chewie nodded in agreement.

“Oh! 'Aagnn',” said Bilbo, touching the cup with one finger.

“Aghn,” corrected Chewie, smiling.

“Aghn,” replied Bilbo.

They passed much of the day like this, with Chewie teaching Bilbo the names of various things around the house. Bilbo could tell that Shyriiwook was not designed for Hobbit mouths, yet he found some facility with it – enough, at least, to humor Chewie. Han Solo tagged along as a translator, but over time he became less and less needed.

The lesson was interrupted shortly before dinnertime by a loud knock on the door, and a shout of “Bilbo Baggins!”

“It's Bofur!” exclaimed Bilbo. He ran to the door and opened it for his old friend. Bofur was well into his middle years, with an impressively long beard tucked into his belt, and a brand new yellow hood over his head. Bilbo waved the Dwarf inside and scrambled to help him with his pack and walking stick.

“It's a pleasure to see you again,” said Bilbo. “How is everything in the Blue Mountains?”

“As well as could be expected,” said Bofur. “Though between you and me, I'm counting the days until my children are old enough to travel and we can all go back to Erebor. I've always planned to retire there, and I am committed to making that happen.”

“A Dwarf of your word, to the last. Come on into the dining room, you're just in time for supper. I do have two other friends here this evening, but I trust you will get on well.”

“Any friend of yours is a friend of mine, Mr. Baggins,” said Bofur, striding into the dining room with the same confidence he'd shown decades earlier when he visited Bag End for the first time. Bilbo followed, and so he did not get a look at Bofur's face when he rounded the corner and saw that Bilbo's friends were a Man and a Wookiee.

“The Big People? In a hobbit-hole? Now I've seen everything,” said Bofur. “Bofur Nidhisson, at your service.” He made a grand sweeping bow.

“Bofur, I'd like you to meet Han Solo, and Chewbacca. They come from a long, long way away, but they have become stranded in the Shire for the time being.”

“How far away?” asked Bofur. “Past the Misty Mountains, I would guess.” Bofur pulled out a chair and plunked himself into it.

“I don't know about any mountains, blue or misty or whatever, but we're from farther than that. We came from another planet,” said Han. “And our host here tells us you might be able to help us get back there.”

Bofur looked over at Bilbo. “He did, did he?”

Bilbo gripped his hands together nervously. “I merely suggested – well -”

Bofur broke into a laugh, and gave Bilbo an affectionate jab in the shoulder. “Nah, I'm just teasing. So Mr. Solo and Mr. – is it Mr.? – Chewbacca, how might I help you?”

“We came here in a ship, that flies among the stars. I gather from Bilbo's stories that such things happen only in myths here. I promise you though, the Millennium Falcon is as real as any riverboat you might have in the Shire. But she needs a certain part to fly, and it's gone kaput.”

Han pulled out the broken gasket and tossed it on the table. “That's a backdraft regulator gasket.”

Bofur picked it up gingerly, peering closely. “That does seem broken, I will admit. What, may I ask, does it do?”

“It's a backdraft regulator gasket. It regulates backdrafts,” said Han. “If your people are still going around in horse carts and paddle boats, I'm not sure how to explain it to you. The real question is, can you tell what it was before it broke, and make a new one exactly like it?”

Bofur peered more closely. “I believe so. A real challenge for our master smiths, but I am sure – no, I am positive – that I can find someone in Ardûnost who can repair this for you.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Bilbo, clapping his hands together. “An old friend helping a new friend, how delightful.”

“Now hold on,” said Bofur. “There's still the matter of payment. Dwarven metalcraft doesn't come cheap. This backdraft regulator gasket is interesting, and I am eager to learn more about how it works, but we're not to be paid in curiosity alone.”

Han smiled. “A man after my own heart. Now, I'm a little low on cash at the moment, until we finish this spice run for Jabba -”

Chewie cut in, “Shaangh kaana annh!”

“Yes, obviously,” said Han, “But if we show up short, then we're just postponing getting ourselves killed.”

“Half on acceptance of the contract, and half on delivery, is how we like to do business,” interjected Bofur.

“We still haven't decided half of what,” said Han. “Look, here's what we've got. The Falcon is a low-budget operation. Everything we have of value is what's in the hold. We have a couple data banks we're transporting for a big shot on Kamino, but I don't think you have the technology to read them much less make any use of the information. And we've got a cargo of spice. Not like cinnamon or whatever – it's a drug.”

Bofur stroked his beard. “A recreational drug, you mean?”

“Basically. A powerful one – just a pinch will have you laid out for weeks.”

Bofur made a show of consideration, tugging firmly at his beard. “Well, not too many in the Blue Mountains go in for that sort of thing, but we may be able to sell it to Círdan's folk.”

“Well there you have it,” said Han, clapping his hands. “We'll give you some spice to get us space-borne again, and hope Jabba doesn't notice we've shorted him.” He shook his head. “How much, exactly, is this going to cost us?”

“I think I shall need to see the product before we can agree on a price, don't you?” said Bofur.

Chewbacca gave an “Unghk” of agreement. Han slapped a hand on the table. “Let's get out of this cramped hole – no offense -”

“None taken, I'm sure,” said Bilbo, unsure what could be wrong with living in a hole.

“- get out of this hole and go for a stroll down to the Falcon. Bilbo, are you coming?”

Both Han and Chewie looked at the Hobbit. Han's expression was indifferent to the prospect, but there was hopeful expectance in Chewie's eyes, and Bilbo said “Yes! Of course! Let me just fetch my overcoat.”

***

The four made their way down toward the Water, an odd assortment of heights casting shadows of varying lengths in the late sunlight. Han led the way, glancing occasionally at his strange small map that seemed to give the most direct route, until they walked up on Telly Burrowes' hops field. 

Bilbo tugged nervously at Han's sleeve. “Excuse me, Mr. Solo. I don't think we should be going this way. Just the other day Mr. Burrowes paid me a visit, and he seemed rather put out at seeing Chewbacca and yourself come through his property.”

“There's a path here,” replied Han, “and it's not marked 'private' or anything.”

“Oh, but it most certainly is!” said a voice behind them. They all spun around to see Telly Burrowes emerging from between the rows of hops plants, carrying a hoe in one hand and a basket filled with weeds in the other. “If it isn't Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End, strolling down here with his strange friends – a Man, a Dwarf, and a … whatever this is.” He gestured to Chewie with the hoe, to which Chewie replied “Nnagh Wookiee hannan!”

“Yes, I am out for a walk with my friends, and I will thank you to mind your own business about it.”

Telly stepped closer to Bilbo, leaning in close. “I heard talk of walking through my fields. Don't pretend you're going to lie about it! I won't have those things in my good Shire hops!”

Bilbo felt a flash of anger on behalf of his friends. He blurted out the first rejoinder that came to his mind – “no wonder you have such a little nose, it must have broken off from sticking it in other folk's business!”

Bilbo realized the harshness of the insult in the same instant that he saw Telly draw back to take a swing at him. He wondered, in that moment of thought granted to anyone who sees an impending danger coming too late to stop it, whether he should turn to take the blow on his cheek, or let Telly simply pop him in the nose.

But Telly hit neither Bilbo's nose nor his cheek. Instead, his swing whistled past beneath Bilbo's toes. Bilbo found himself six feet up in the air, held by a pair of strong hands. He was nuzzled securely in a hairy chest, and with the ear pressed up against it he could hear an urgent heartbeat. The smell of Chewie filled Bilbo's head, a warm and pleasant smell more compelling than anything he had experienced before.

Chewie bellowed, a wordless roar of frustration. He shifted Bilbo over to his left arm, and with his right he took hold of the hoe, freeing it from Telly's stunned hand. Then he flung it out into the field as far as he could throw it.

“You monster!” shouted Telly, regaining his tongue.

“I think we've outstayed our welcome,” said Han. “Let's just take the main road around to the Falcon.”

Telly Burrowes stomped off into his field to recover his hoe, leaving the four companions to themselves. Chewbacca set Bilbo down, and he thought he felt reluctance in it from the Wookiee. They all started off after Han as evening crept over the Shire.


	6. 6

Bilbo declined the offer – gratefully accepted by Bofur – to stay the night in the Millennium Falcon after the repair contract was finalized, and so he straggled back to Bag End well after midnight. Though the walk was no more than he often did for pleasure, he felt exhausted. He closed the door to his hole and collapsed into the nearest chair. He was surprised to find himself weeping. Not a sad weeping, exactly, just a release. Too much had been happening, and he didn't know what to make of it all. He felt wrung out, in a way he hadn't since at least the Lonely Mountain, if even then.

Bilbo slept in late the next morning, his body claiming the rest that it dearly needed despite the owner's protestations. His whole morning routine being thrown off anyway, he decided to stroll down the lane to pay a visit to Hamfast Gamgee. He hadn't visited the Gaffer in some time, and the gardener was no doubt wondering about the strange comings and goings of late.

Bilbo found Mr. Gamgee applying mulch to the base of a row of bushes a short distance down the hill. The Gaffer bowed deeply at his employer's approach, but Bilbo waved for him to stand.

“Good day to you, Hamfast.”

“And a good day it is, Mr. Bilbo. We shouldn't have too many more like this as the new season sets in.”

“One can always hope. Now, I wanted to ask you about that Tellured Burrowes. He came by to see me the other day and was rather put out.”

“Yes, and I do apologize, Mr. Bilbo, I tried to tell him you were gone for the week, but he somehow --”

“I'm not upset with you, Ham. You're my gardener, not my butler. Lying to unwanted visitors is not in your job description, though I do appreciate how you've learned to handle my cousins.” 

The Gaffer smiled at the compliment. “Well, I hope Mr. Burrowes wasn't too much of a bother. He has certainly been making a name for himself around town lately.”

“Oh? How is that?” Bilbo realized that one of the downsides to his quiet bachelor's life was that he was quite out of the loop of any local gossip.

“Well, it seems he has a cousin whose family moved out to Bree some years back. That was curious enough, for a Shire Hobbit. But then – and I know you won't believe me, but I swear on my favorite shears that it's true – his cousin married one of the Big People! It seems the Hobbits and Big People all consort together out there, visiting the same pubs and so forth.”

Bilbo nodded. He remembered Bree from his travels. It was the first time he had ever seen any of the Big People up close, as they were rather rare in the Shire proper. He had pronounced it odd to see the two peoples living together like that, until he was reminded that he himself was a Hobbit traveling with a company of Dwarves and a wizard! 

To the Gaffer, he said, “I have been to Bree, and I'm not wholly surprised that a Hobbit and a Big Person might end up wedded out there. And at any rate, if they're happy about it, it's none of my business to approve or disapprove.” And yet, he admitted to himself, he did more than simply decline to hold an opinion. In fact he found himself quite curious, uncharacteristically so, as to how love might go on between two individuals of such different sizes. A shame that he would be able to get no such (salacious! for shame, Bilbo!) answers out of the Burrowes family.

“Well, they got married, and for the wedding feast they had beer made from the hops that Mr Burrowes grows right here by the Water. And it seems the folk in Bree were very impressed, and asked if he could keep providing beer for the pubs out there. Now, I don't fancy his brews so much myself, but there's no accounting for taste, as they say. Mr. Burrowes has gotten very puffed up about his new customers, though. And he's been spending quite a bit of time with his new cousins among the Big People.”

Bilbo stifled a gasp. The Big People! He had gotten so comfortable around Chewie and Han Solo, and so defensive of them when Telly made a fuss, that he had nearly forgotten Gandalf's warning.

“Well, then Telly can go visit his cousins in Bree all he likes,” said Bilbo.

“I would hope so myself,” replied the Gaffer. “But ever since this wedding – that was a year ago now, I think – he's had occasional visits from some tall strangers, and he has taken to threatening to call his cousins whenever anyone crosses him. Or whenever he thinks they have, at any rate.” 

Bilbo nodded, struggling to keep his cool. He could handle it if Telly himself wanted to sock him in the nose, but it wouldn't do at all – not after Gandalf's warning – to have Big People getting involved. He would have to be careful if Han Solo and Chewie came to Bag End again.


	7. 7

Five nights had passed since Bilbo saw Chewie, and it was raining hard. That's how he thought of it, he admitted to himself. It was five nights since he saw Han Solo or Bofur as well, but it was Chewie whose company marked the difference for him.

The sound of the rain on his windows, and the boom of thunder in the distance off toward Scary, meant he nearly missed the knock at his door. It was a soft knock, but something about it sent a thrill through Bilbo. He waited, not daring to believe it, but then it came again. He hurried to the door and threw it open.

On his doorstep huddled Chewbacca, his fur soaking wet and matted against his body. Bilbo gasped at the sight of his friend in such a poor state. He grabbed Chewie by the hand before he even realized what he was doing, and drew the Wookie into his hole. Chewie crouched in the entrance hall, his arms wrapped around his knees. In the light Bilbo could now see that Chewie was shivering. 

“Oh no, Chewie, what is it that brings you out on a night like this? Heavens, I must see if I have enough towels – come, sit here by the fire and warm yourself.” Bilbo ushered the Wookiee into his living room, where he had a modest fire burning. He pushed an additional log onto the fire, then ran down the hall toward the linen closet. He found several towels, and some blankets that might be big enough to stretch across Chewie's wide shoulders. His relatives sometimes teased him for his fondness for large beds despite being a bachelor, but the oversized bedclothes would be particularly useful now.

When Bilbo returned to the living room, Chewie was politely dripping into a puddle on the floor. Bilbo wondered whether the Wookiee might prefer to shake himself off, like a bear or a dog, but he wasn't sure how to bring it up without perhaps insulting his guest. It wasn't that he would mind it, of course – the enjoyment of the spectacle would be well worth the bother of cleaning up afterward. Nevertheless, Chewie simply took the proffered towels and rubbed his fur vigorously with them, transforming himself from soaked to damp. The fire contributed to the drying process as well, and Bilbo's living room was soon filled with the pleasant musk of Chewie's fur.

“Anghh shaagh,” said Chewie, bowing his head to suggest he was offering thanks.

“You are most welcome,” replied Bilbo. Then, after a moment's pause, “This is awkward, isn't it. Here we are, with you able to understand every word I say, but me unable to make anything of your tongue, aside from the few words you taught me the other day. I'm sure there's a reason that Han Solo did not come along with you this time, but without him here, I fear I shall never know what that reason is!”

Chewie nodded in recognition, then reached into a pocket in his bandolier. He withdrew a small object, and held it out to Bilbo. The Hobbit took it, and realized it was a book. On the cover, it said “Galactic Basic/Shyriiwook Dictionary – Shyriwook/Nnugahh Unghhaa Aunmihh” The book was well-worn. Bilbo opened the front cover, and saw the name “Chewbacca” written in an unsteady hand. Chewie nodded, seeing Bilbo's interest.

Bilbo flipped forward in the book. It was much like the Quenya dictionary he had acquired in Rivendell, with two matching columns of words. He didn't know what “Galactic Basic” was, but it seemed that one set of words were all good Westron, and in the accompanying column were what seemed to be transcriptions of the kinds of words Chewie had said. He looked up the word for “hello.”

“Rash-kah,” Bilbo said, haltingly.

Chewie smiled. “Raashkaa,” he said.

“Rashka,” repeated Bilbo.

“Raashkaa.”

“Raashkaa.”

Chewie grinned and grabbed hold of Bilbo's arm, giving it an excited shake. Bilbo couldn't help but grin back.

***

Bilbo found over the next few days that his facility for languages extended to Chewie's speech as well. He quickly figured out how the sounds of Shyriwook lined up with the spellings on the pages of the dictionary. The grammar of the language was simple, and he gained skill in flipping quickly through the dictionary to locate words. It rained steadily for several days, and Bilbo was content to spend them curled up against Chewbacca's chest as the Wookiee lay in his living room, eagerly learning as much of the language as he could. He insisted on trying to speak the words, for the sake of learning them better, even though his Hobbit throat was clearly not suited to making the requisite sounds. Chewie humored him, and did his best to make sense of Bilbo's awkward moans and bleats.

As Bilbo's command of Shyriwook grew, Chewie was able to explain – in broad outline – why he had come back to Bag End. He had had a tiff of some sort with Han Solo. Bilbo struggled to make sense of the exact stakes of their conflict, but what was clear was that Chewie was genuinely hurt. He must have been, of course, to go out in that storm. But Han was the person in the universe that the Wookiee cared about most, and so to find himself at odds with his co-pilot shook him deeply. 

Bilbo could also tell – though he didn't yet grasp all of the words in Shyriiwook – that Chewie was touched by the hospitality he received at Bag End.

Between language lessons, Bilbo read to Chewie from his book. Chewie seemed very curious about the descriptions of Hobbit customs in the first chapter, which Bilbo had included for the information of any Elves or Dwarves who might read it and not be familiar with Hobbits. Prompted by Chewie's gentle inquiries, he began making more extensive notes. They wouldn't fit into the book as it was currently written, of course, but perhaps there would be some other occasion on which they would be useful. At the top he scratched a title, to remind himself when he found them in his papers on some future day – “Concerning Hobbits.”


	8. 8

Several days went by before a sharp beeping disturbed a lesson on case endings in Shyriiwook. Chewie jumped at the sound, perhaps even more than Bilbo, who had never heard such a thing in his life. Chewie snatched a small device of some sort from his bandolier, and held it up to his ear. He began talking to it, much too rapidly for Bilbo to make out the sense, though he was proud of himself for recognizing a stray word here or there – “home,” “night,” “watermelon,” and a few others besides.

Chewie's tone was agitated at first, then mournful, then frustrated, then finally resigned. He talked for what seemed like half an hour, pausing from time to time as if listening to another side of a conversation. Bilbo moved into the dining room, straightening the plates for dinner in an effort to stay out of Chewie's way. Whatever he was hearing from that device seemed to be rather agitating.

Then suddenly Chewie was pushing his way into the dining room, holding the device out to Bilbo. He said, in carefully simple Shyriiwook, “you take it.” The Hobbit did so nervously, and pressed it gently to his ear as he had seen Chewie do.

From the device came, crackling and distorted but unmistakable, the voice of Han Solo. “Bilbo, are you there?”

“Yes! Bilbo Baggins, at your service,” he replied.

“Okay. Look, I've had a little talk with Chewie. I know he told you we had a fight, and I don't really want to get into it again, but the upshot is that he's welcome to come back to the Falcon. Or stay there, if he wants to. Thank you, though, for looking after him the last few days. It means a lot to both of us.”

“Oh, but of course, Mr. Solo. Chewbacca – and yourself – are always welcome at Bag End.”

“Thank you. All right, I've got some stuff to do. Over and out.”

And just like that, the device went silent. Bilbo looked at it for a moment, wondering how something so plain – a black rectangle with just a few knobs – could perform such a magic feat. Then he handed it back to Chewie. 

“So Han Solo says you're free to return. It sounds like he really wants you to come back,” said Bilbo, in the Common Speech. 

Chewie nodded. “Tomorrow night, I leave,” he said in Shyriiwook.

“Yes, you will,” said Bilbo sadly, switching back to the Wookiee tongue.

“But first,” added Chewie, “we read.” He took Bilbo by the hand and led him back to the living room. They settled down in their usual places, and Chewie pressed the copy of There and Back Again into Bilbo's hands. Bilbo smiled in spite of himself. 

Last time the had left off just as he first encountered the creature Gollum. Bilbo read the riddles he had played with Gollum, pausing after each to give Chewie a chance to guess. He managed to guess Mountain, Wind, and Eggs, but was quite stumped by the others. It seems there were no daisies on Kashyyk, so they both agreed that one was a bit unfair. And of course he knew what was in Bilbo's pocket, since the story itself had given that away.

As he told that bit of the story, Bilbo patted his pocket for emphasis, and realized that he in fact had the ring in it now, just as he had that day under the mountain. He pulled it out to show Chewie, cradling it in his palm. Chewie extended a furry hand to take it, but Bilbo snatched it back.

“Be careful not to lose it,” he said. “And in any event, I'm sure it wouldn't fit your finger. It's Gollum-sized, or Hobbit-sized, if you will. But I will show you.” And with that, he popped the ring on his finger and disappeared.

Chewie gave a cry of surprise. They were still cuddled up together, so Chewie could still feel him, but he was gone from sight for a few moments, before removing the ring and thrusting it safely back in his pocket. “They don't make many of those anymore,” said Bilbo. “It must have come from the Elven smiths of old, like my little sword Sting.” Chewie rumbled appreciatively.

Coming to the conclusion of the riddle game, Bilbo read on: “I don't know how many times Gollum begged Bilbo's pardon. He kept on saying: "We are ssorry; we didn't mean to cheat, we meant to give it our only pressent, if it won the competition."” Bilbo trailed off at the end of the passage. There was a coldness inside him as he read it. The situation with Gollum was complicated, and he had been in desperate circumstances there, deep under the mountain and not knowing whether he would ever see Gandalf or Thorin or the other Dwarves again – much less his comfortable hobbit-hole. He was rather proud of himself that he hadn't simply run that slimy Gollum through with his sword. What he'd written in the book was exactly how he'd described the story to the company when he finally met with them again on the far side of the mountains.

And yet, it wasn't true. Not all of it, at least. And here he had just shown Chewie his greatest treasure, then turned around and given a false account of how he had gotten it. That wasn't much like a Baggins or a Took, when it came right down to it. And he suddenly felt very uncomfortable, unable to reconcile keeping the Wookiee in his home any longer.

Bilbo closed the book. “Well, it's getting late I suppose, and Han Solo is waiting for you. Why don't I pack you a few cakes to take with you, and you can be on your way now.”


	9. 9

Bilbo waited for the following night to seek out the Millennium Falcon, though his heart ached to go sooner. He had slept poorly, tormented by dreams in which he put on the ring and disappeared forever. He made a point of leaving it in his waistcoat pocket, slung over a chair on the far side of the room, and yet he had woken up three times during the night to find it clutched in his hand, the result of some sort of unremembered sleepwalking.

When dawn pushed its light through the windows of his bedroom, Bilbo finally felt free of his nightmares. He felt wrung out, as if rinsed and washed like a shirt. What was left now was shame. Shame that he lied to Chewie, shame that he treated him so poorly by hustling him back to the Millennium Falcon. And fear – fear that he may have done irreparable damage to the Wookiee's blossoming kindness to him.

It wouldn't do, though, to go running off right away to find Chewie. On a practical level, he worried about bumping into Telly Burrowes yet again. Telly was being unreasonable, of course, but unreasonable people could still do harm. Better to wait until his opponent was safely tucked into bed, then head off, like he always used to do on his late-night walks in the woods. So Bilbo waited. He tried to busy himself with household chores, but still the clock crept slowly on.

When it finally arrived, the night was chill and clear. Bilbo bundled himself into his best scarf and overcoat, and found his way back to the clearing where the Millennium Falcon sat, taking the long way to avoid Telly Burrowes' hops field. The lights outside were off, and nobody was around. For a moment, Bilbo feared that Chewie and Han Solo had abandoned their strange ship entirely.

But that was preposterous – where would they go? Telly had certainly not convinced them that they'd be welcome elsewhere in the Shire, and neither looked suited to a long stretch of camping if they decided to venture out into the lone-lands. Bilbo approached the ship with Hobbit quietness, and rested an ear against its smooth steel leg. He could hear humming, as of a great engine far away. He shuddered at the thought of it, but it did suggest that the occupants were home and the ship was alive with whatever mechanism it used to run itself. 

Bilbo found the door he had seen Han and Chewie use, and knocked gently.

No answer.

Bilbo considered going home. He could just slip away, and try to forget this whole business. But before too long Bofur would be back, and he'd have to deal with it all over. Now then, Mr. Bilbo Baggins – he told himself – you faced down a dragon, you can surely face a Man and a Wookiee. 

He knocked again, harder this time. There was an indistinct noise from inside, and then the sound of footsteps on metal stairs. The door flew open, and there was Han Solo. He was wrapped in a soft robe rather than his customary pants and vest, and his hair stuck up wildly on one side.

“Yeah? What do you want?” he asked plaintively. “Why are you all the way down here?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Solo, sir. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Well, you did, so it's too late now.”

“I am dreadfully sorry. I was hoping to speak with Mr. Chewbacca.”

Han rolled his eyes. “You and Chewie. This is more drama than that time the Lovnax gang hired me to fake being intercepted by them for running holarium crystals to Mygeeto.” He sighed at Bilbo's uncomprehending gaze. “Look, Chewie left half an hour ago to go looking for you. I'm surprised you didn't run into him on the way here.”

Bilbo gaped for a moment. How had he missed Chewie's huge figure on the way here? Of course – the Wookiee must have taken the short way, the only way he really knew, straight through Telly's field. 

“Thank you, sir, and my apologies again for disturbing your sleep.” Bilbo bowed as deep as he could, then turned and made for Bag End at a sprint, not pausing to hear any farewell from Han.

Arriving back at his home, out of breath but with his head buzzing with excitement, Bilbo spotted Chewie at once. The Wookiee was sitting at his doorstep, hunched down against the hill in an effort to appear unobtrusive.

“Chewie!” he burst out. “Oh, thank goodness you're here.”

Chewie did not move to accept Bilbo's proffered hug, but said “I couldn't stay away. I haven't been able to sleep.”

“I just went to the Millennium Falcon looking for you. Han Solo told me you'd be here.” Chewie seemed to perk up at this. “Now, let's get you inside before the neighbors start asking questions.”

Once they were back inside Bag End, Bilbo lit a couple lamps and led Chewie into the living room. “I have an apology to make. And I have something important to share with you.”

Chewie nodded.

“I treated you poorly the other day. I shoulnd't have snapped at you. I don't know what came over me. No, in fact, I do. I was ashamed. I had just read you the passage about the end of the riddle game with Gollum.”

Chewie nodded again. “The part where he showed you the way out.”

“Yes. Well … so what I told you is what is written in my book. That is the way I've told it to everyone who has asked – to Gandalf and Thorin and Bofur (who you met) and the other Dwarves, as well as to the Gaffer and my cousins and all of the other Hobbits around about. I'm sure even Telly Burrowes has heard that version of the story a time or two. But ...” Bilbo took a breath and gathered himself. “It's not quite true. And I owe you the truth, Chewie. I was so ashamed to be telling you that same lie I have told countless times.”

Bilbo sat down on the floor. Chewie extened an arm, and Bilbo scooched over gratefully, letting the Wookiee hold him as he gathered up his wits. “If I were to tell it aright in my book, it would go something like this, after Gollum failed to guess what was in my pocket:

“He knew, of course, that the riddle-game was sacred and of immense antiquity, and even wicked creatures were afraid to cheat when they played at it. But he felt he could not trust this slimy thing to keep any promise at a pinch. Any excuse would do for him to slide out of it. And after all that last question had not been a genuine riddle according to the ancient laws ...”

Bilbo went on through the passage, describing Gollum's consternation at the loss of the ring, and his attempts to kill Bilbo. Chewbacca gave him a mighty hug when he described his choice not to kill the wretched creature, and Bilbo smiled with some embarrassment. He still wasn't quite sure he had done the right thing there, but in any event he didn't expect that he, or any Hobbit, would ever see Gollum again, so it made little difference. Finally he came to the end, with Gollum's shriek of “Thief, thief, thief! Baggins! We hates it, we hates it, we hates it for ever!”

“Thank you,” said Chewbacca, nuzzling against Bilbo's curly head. “It means a lot to me for you to share that part of the story.”

“I am glad. You were the first person in Middle-earth – or anywhere in the universe, I suppose – to hear that. But it's a bit unnerving to know Gollum is probably still out there, hating me forever.”

“Well, then you just need to balance that out with someone who will do the opposite.”

Bilbo turned and met Chewie's eyes. They were soft and black, and drew him in. He didn't realize how close they'd gotten until their lips touched.

After a moment that stretched into eternity, Bilbo pulled back, breathless. “Well. It is quite late. I know you had been sleeping in the guest bedroom before, but I haven't had time to clean it properly. Would you … would you care to join me in my bedroom?”

Chewie smiled “That would be lovely.”

Bilbo led his companion down the hallway to his room. He was quite glad now that he had secured the luxury of a very large bed, despite being a dedicated bachelor. He closed the door behind them, and turned away from Chewie as he unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt. There was a thunk on the floor, and he turned back around to see Chewie setting down his bandolier. 

The bandolier covered hardly any of the Wookiee's body, of course, but Bilbo had never seen him not wearing it. Chewie seemed raw and vulnerable without it, and Bilbo felt an urge to get lost in his thick brown fur. He quickly slipped off the remainder of his own clothes and tossed them over a chair, quite forgetting about the ring in his pocket.


	10. 10

Bilbo and Chewie passed a long, luxuriant morning in bed, until their rest was disturbed by a loud pounding on the door. At first Bilbo tried to ignore it, hoping whoever it was would go away, but it only grew louder and more insistent. So he finally rolled over and pulled on a dressing-gown. He gave an inquisitive Chewie a short kiss on the cheek. “I'll go see who it is, and be back in just a moment.”

Arriving at the door, Bilbo nudged aside a curtain to see who was there. He nearly cried out in shock. It was Telly Burrowes, along with two other Hobbits, who Bilbo recognized as two of the current shirrifs, and two of the Big People! One of the Big People had a nasty-looking club in his hand, and the other held a length of rope.

Bilbo was just about to leave the door and hide when Telly turned directly to him. “I see you peeking out there, Bilbo Baggins!” he yelled. “Now let us in before we break this door down!”

“Well, there is no need for violence,” said Bilbo, hastily opening the door enough for a Hobbit to come through. “What is all this commotion about? Don't you have your fields to tend to?”

“That is precisely why I am here!” snapped Telly. He opened a sack he was carrying and dumped out an armful of hops plants. Their stems were badly broken in several places. “I woke up this morning to find this! And I know it was that – that creature that has been hanging around you! It must have come through my hops field in the night! I intend to prove to these gentlemen” – he snatched his glasses off and gestured to the shirrifs with them – “that you are responsible, and then you will pay for the damages. Bilbo Baggins the treasure-hunter, Bilbo Baggins the dragon-slayer, will not be half so famous as Bilbo Baggins the crop ruiner when I'm done with you!”

As Telly spoke, the two Big People squeezed into the hobbit-hole as well. They were stooped over, but still formidable in their size. They were a rough sort, just the kind of people he expected someone like Telly Burrowes to consort with. He wondered whether Chewie could take them in a fight – and whether it would come to that.

“Now,” said Telly, plunking his glasses back onto his nose, “we're going to see if there is any giant hairy creature being harbored here. I expect that Mr. Bilbo Baggins is about to be caught red-handed!”

Bilbo was too shocked to make any reply. What could he say? Chewie was lying there in his bedroom, far too big a personage to hide in a closet or slip down the hallway. His heart in his throat, he followed after as the Big People and shirrifs began to search Bag End.

There was nobody in the living room, of course, nor in the kitchen or library. Next, though, was Bilbo's bedroom. He had left the door mostly closed, and he cringed as one of the Big People threw it open and stuck his head inside.

“Nothing here either,” the man said, with some exasperation. He crawled inside and Bilbo could hear him rooting around, poking through the closet and lifting the bed from its frame. “Nope, still nothing.” They moved on to the next room. 

Bilbo peeked inside his room as soon as Telly's group had left. As the man had said, there was nobody here. Chewie's bandolier still lay on the floor, but there was no sign of the Wookiee himself. Had he somehow slipped out and moved to a different room? If so, they would surely find him sooner or later.

But as it happened, the Big People and shirrifs couldn't find Chewie. They searched every room, from top to bottom of Bag End, growing increasingly annoyed at Telly for having brought them here. For his part, Telly grew increasingly shrill, sure that Chewbacca would be in the next place they looked. But after going over the whole hobbit-hole twice, he was finally forced to admit defeat.

“I don't know how you did it, but you got away with it,” spat Telly. “But I'll be watching you!”

“I hope to never see you again, Mr. Burrowes,” said Bilbo, and closed the door firmly behind him.

With the house invaders gone, Bilbo slumped down in a chair to catch his breath. He had nearly died of shock when they insisted on searching the house. And yet, somehow they had not found Chewie. What had Chewie done? Where had he gone? The windows were surely too small for him to slip out of, and the hole had been searched quite thoroughly.

Bilbo made his way back to the bedroom. He hung his dressing-gown back up and began to get dressed properly. He put on his drawers, his trousers, and his shirt, Then he reached for his waistcoat – and found it oddly light. He patted the pocket where he always kept his ring – nothing! The ring was gone!

Just then, he heard Chewie's voice. “Missing something?”

Bilbo looked up. He could see no sign of Chewie – and then suddenly, the Wookiee was there, sitting on the edge of his bed. In his hand, he held the ring. But he didn't offer it to Bilbo. Instead, he gripped it between two hairy fingers and examined it. “Such a small thing, but so powerful. Quite a marvel for that Gollum creature to be hiding deep under that mountain.”

Bilbo moved quickly, more quickly than he would have thought himself capable of, and snatched the ring from Chewie's hand. While the stunned Wookiee looked down at his empty fingers, Bilbo shoved it back in his pocket. “I did not give you permission to take that! You know how precious it is to me!”

“I'm sorry -” began Chewie.

“That's it! You've spared yourself from Telly Burrowes, but you're no longer welcome here. I shared my deepest secrets with you, and you repay me by trying to take my ring. Well, too bad for you I guessed what was in your bandolierses. Now, take your things and get out of Bag End!”

Chewie hung his head, picked up his bandolier from the floor, and slunk out of the room. “And be sure to take the long way back – don't tramp on any hops fields, or I'll turn you over to the shirrifs myself!”


	11. 11

Weeks went by. Bilbo thought often about Chewie, but each time he did, he found his hand wandering back to the ring in his pocket. The Wookiee had taken his ring. For a good cause, to be sure – but still, the thought of anyone else holding it burned in Bilbo's mind. Over time, his anger faded into regret. He busied himself around the house, and tried working more on his book. He had gotten as far as the arrival in Lake-town, but now he set about from the beginning again, re-copying everything in a neater hand, and repairing some of the phrasing and details as he went. When he reached the episode of the riddles in the dark, he paused for several days, unsure how to proceed. He had so many complicated feelings tied up in that passage. Finally he resolved himself to tell the story as it really happened. He supposed he owed his readers at least the courtesy he had showed Chewie.

Bofur arrived at Bag End right on schedule on November 20th. He brought with him a lumpy package, which he eagerly unwrapped as Bilbo made tea for them both.

“Just look at that!” he crowed. “A backdraft regulator gasket, old and new!” Bilbo looked, and saw the broken part from Han Solo's ship next to a brand-new metal object that resembled it in less broken form.

“Do you suppose he'll be satisfied? It seemed quite important to him.”

“I guarantee it! By the faith of the Dwarves of the Blue Mountains, there's no finer backdraft regulator gasket in all of Middle-earth. Backdrafts beware, I say - you are soon to be regulated. Now, let us have our tea, and then we should be off to the Millennium Falcon!”

Through tea, Bofur shared various stories of his kin, particularly those who had been part of Thorin's company. Bilbo dodged inquiries about his own business. He didn't know how to explain to the Dwarf all that had gone on since he last visited. He didn't want anyone else drawn into it anyway. He nearly begged off going along to deliver the gasket, but decided that would be even more odd, and require an explanation. Perhaps he would get lucky and Han Solo would do all the talking.

They took the long way to the Millennium Falcon at Bilbo's insistence. He had heard no more from Telly Burrowes since the incident at Bag End, but there was no sense in pushing his luck. The Gaffer had assured him that there was quite a row between Telly and his Big People companions as they left that day, and those two had not been seen in the Shire since.

Knocking at the Millennium Falcon, Han Solo let Bilbo and Bofur in. They proceeded to the lounge area of the ship, where they found Chewbacca waiting. Bilbo said a stiff hello, which the Wookiee returned. Bofur proudly spread out his package on the table. Han picked up the new gasket, and inspected it. 

“You know, this just might work,” he smiled. “Imagine finding something like that on a backwards, medieval planet like this. No offense.”

“Let no-one question the craftsmanship of the Dwarves of Ardûnost,” said Bofur.

“Of course not,” said Han. “Now, Bofur, why don't you come with me and we'll try installing this thing and see how it goes.”

Han and Bofur headed for the maintenance shaft, leaving Bilbo and Chewie alone in the lounge. A long, awkward moment passed, until Chewie broke the silence. “So, as long as that part works, we're leaving today. Han is getting antsy about the amount of time we're losing. And with paying part of our cargo to the Dwarves for the repair, we're already going to catch hell from Jabba over this.”

Bilbo nodded. “That makes sense. I imagine it's quite a journey.”

Chewie shrugged. “With the jump to hyperspace, it should only take a few days. It's a little easier than riding a pony to Rivendell.”

Bilbo found himself smiling involuntarily. “I know I owe you an apology. Again. But I don't think there's an apology big enough. We had something special there, and I messed it up.”

Chewie put a hand out on the table, offering it to Bilbo but not forcing him to take it. “It wouldn't have worked out in the long run anyway,” he said. “My life is with Han Solo, flying among the stars. Yours is here in the Shire.”

Bilbo nodded. “I know. And I know I've had enough adventure to fill the lifetimes of several hobbits. But still, I had dreams.” He sighed, and looked for a long time at Chewie's waiting hand. Then he took it and clasped it in his own. Then words came spilling out, a poem in difficult meter that he found as smooth as the Wookie's silky under-hairs:

Chewbacca was a mariner  
who tarried long on Tatooine  
he had a ship and guided her,  
among the stars and space between;  
he paused beneath the oaken-trees  
and passed the time when fall had come  
but soon he must away upon  
the Falcon called Millennium.

Chewie smiled. “Thank you. Thank you, Bilbo. You have no idea how much this means. I'm afraid I don't have anything of its like to give you. Unless you'll accept this – a traditonal Wookiee parting gift.” He proceeded to pluck three hairs from his body – one from his cheek, one from his chest, and one from his hand. “From the head, the heart, and the hand, my hairs for you. Remember me well, and remember what was good between us.”

Bilbo took the three long, brown hairs in his cupped hands. “Thank you, Chewie. I will keep these always, as a reminder of what we had together.”

“It's also traditionally a promise,” Chewie said. “When you give someone your three hairs, it's a promise to return.”

Just then they were interrupted by Han Solo's celebratory shout. “It works! It works! Chewie, we're lifting off in five!”

“I have to go,” said Chewie. “But remember me.”


	12. Epilogue

At the end of things, the great Elven ship left the Grey Havens, and Bilbo thought back on his long life as it sailed into the West. As the mountains disappeared behind them, the waves fell away below the hull and they found themselves on the Straight Road, which no mortal had ever passed before Bilbo and Frodo. How long they sailed he could not say, as time seemed slippery and meaningless, and the journey passed like a dream.

But finally the mists parted, and the sun climbed into the sky behind them, and standing on the deck of the ship Bilbo could see green hills rising from the calm waters, and a shining white quay where Elves danced and played, and ships carved with prows like swans that glided over the waves to meet them.

Gandalf placed a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. "The lonely island of Tol Eressea, Elvenhome of the legends of the ancient days," he said. "Welcome to your new home, Mr. Baggins."

Bilbo smiled, and watched in eager anticipation as the Elven mariners approached, singing in voices that glittered over the spray, and their kin in the ship's crew answered back in a different tongue that nonetheless harmonized seamlessly, like two branches from the same root.

And as the first swan boats pulled alongside the great ship, a burst of light streaked across the sky, arcing over the scene then banking to curve down toward Tol Eressea.

"Why, it looks like even Eärendil himself has come to greet us at the end of the Age. He will be most interested to hear your poem about him, I am sure," said Gandalf.

"No, Mr. Gandalf -- for once, I think I know a piece of lore that you do not," said Bilbo, tugging at the wizard's hand in excitement. "That's not Eärendil. That is the Millennium Falcon."


End file.
